The Departments of State found themselves quarters in the Palace, and the Postmaster-General contrived the telegraphs, some sort of money was arranged for the public--what kind of currency mattered nothing now. A power station was got to work in the Midlands so that electric shipping was able to take the air. The Fleet reserve was mobilized, and the royal yacht squadron assembled. The railways were seized, and a service of trains commenced. The Imperial army began to concentrate upon London, regiment after regiment, brigade after brigade being quartered and fortified to protect the main supplies of food. And so her Majesty began to reign. The fallen lifted their eyes, those who despaired ventured to think and to hope, those who were weak had strength to work for her, the wounded forgot their pain, the stricken their bereavement, the mourners their dead, and dying England lived for Margaret. "Number one, all's well!" "All's well." "All's well." "All's well." Was our Lady asleep there in her corner? The trooper from his furthest side of the pavement, glanced through the corner of one eye, just daring to see her white robe shine against the black of his cloak upon the flags. He had not courage to really look at her, even if she slept, but paced his beat slowly from end to end, nine paces, and nine paces, inventing conversation all the time in which he made her seem to speak to him. Somebody was coming up within the tower, and Browne at the stairhead waited ready to fire. A man?--the trooper boiled over at his insolence. Sir Myles Strangford, indeed! "Get down," he whispered hoarsely. "Our Lady is here. Get down with you!" "Who is it?" asked her Majesty. "What--Sir Myles? Don't go." "Madam, forgive me," Sir Myles bowed to her. "I didn't know. Let me retire." "No, stay, Sir Myles." "Madam," he bowed again, "I couldn't sleep." "Nor I. Come, sit in the shelter here and talk to me." The Secretary for War sat down at our Lady's feet. "Tried to drug myself," he said frankly; "daren't take another drop--and sleep! How could I sleep?" "It's not for you or for me," said Margaret. "'And so He giveth His beloved sleep'--only His beloved, you see--not for us." "Madam, I can't stand it; I won't stand it," he spoke in breathless haste. "I don't care if you kill me for saying it. This declaration of war is impossible." "I expelled Prince Alexander from the Palace; I gave the Ambassadors from Russia, France and Germany all their passports; I recalled my Ambassadors; I declared war," she turned upon the statesman. "You, Sir Myles, have the frankness and courage to protest, and you had the loyalty to obey." "I behaved like a madman," he cried. "The Fleet is lost, the army is perishing."